Love Wheel
by Yumi-chan-likes-chainsaws
Summary: Then he realised he loved Arthur Kirkland. And that would be the death of them both. USxUK Human!AU


_**A/N: This is based on the theory of the 'Obsessive Love Wheel' so it's adivised to look that up before reading this ^^' it might get confusing ^^'**_

_**For the usxuk livejournal community's summer camp**_

_***passes out on floor***_

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**Phase One - Attraction**

It was like the other boy was a possession.

He needed to have him.

Alfred spent most of his childhood in the library he was currently sitting in. He was never incredibly popular and the friends he did have were few and far between, most having scattered at the beginning of high school, making new friendships while Alfred severed his.

But, any of the friends he had had came to him. He had never wanted a friend before. He dealt with having one, badly and strangely or not, but had never saw someone and just needed their name.

Until now.

The boy was sitting behind the librarian's desk, but he was not a librarian, which Alfred thought was strange. He knew all the staff at the library and he felt mildly uncomfortable at the thought of their being another staff member he did not know about.

The boy didn't look much older than he was. His green converse sneakers with the blue and pink laces- one wasn't entirely tied, a length of it was muddy from having been walked into the cobble stone street outside- were propped up on the desk and he had a book on his lap, and was reading it intently.

It was Moby Dick, and Alfred wanted to say something about how he had read it five times as a child, but he felt it wasn't a worthy conversation starter.

He inched closer, never taking his eyes off the boy in front of him, his Dicken's book abandoned on his usual desk behind him.

The boy had scruffy blonde hair which looked like it had never seen a brush in a natural way. Alfred would be able to smell gel a mile away, but he couldn't which he took to being that the other had none on in the first place. He had a few spikes and a 54 degree angle sticking out. The first button of his shirt wasn't buttoned and his trousers were around 3.5 millimetres too short. They were brushing around the tops of his ankles and making his green and pink stripy socks visible.

Alfred took another few steps forward before realising that he had reached the desk. He was close enough to the nameless other to notice the light blue earphones firmly placed in his ears and hear the beat thumping from them.

"What's your name?"

He got no answer at first, but he stood until the boy looked up, jolting with surprise and shoving his legs of the desk when he saw Alfred standing in front of him, ripping the earphones off of himself. "Man, I'm so sorry," he apologized, grimacing, "I'm only doing volunteer work and it's a slow day. What can I do for you?"

Alfred watched him intently until he started to flush under the scrutiny. When he did so, Alfred repeated his previous question of- "What's your name?"

"I'm Arthur Kirkland," the boy replied, looking slightly wary, "And you're Alfred, right? You were in the class under me in high school."

Alfred never remembered Arthur in high school and he wonders why he wouldn't, considering how intrigued he was with him now. "I want to..."

Arthur gives him a questioning look and he raises one eyebrow and places one hand on his hip with his thumb pressed into his palm and Alfred can hear his foot tap but can't hear what his mind is screaming at him.

"I want to go out...with you...sometime..."

Arthur blinked momentarily and it crossed Alfred's mind that he had blew his only chance by being too up front. But then Arthur grinned and nodded. "I get off in half an hour. I'll meet you at the café across from the square if that's alright?"

Alfred stared before nodding with a dumb struck expression before realising he loved the way Arthur added with a stammer that Alfred had to pay and he loved the blush that was starting to spread the other's cheeks at the heavy gaze.

He realised he loved Arthur Kirkland.

And that that would be the death of them both.

-x-

**Phase Two - Anxiety**

Arthur had moved in to his apartment two weeks earlier and Alfred didn't see why Arthur was having problems adjusting.

Apparently, Arthur felt uncomfortable sleeping in the same bed as Alfred night in night out. Alfred thought that was what normal couples did, but Arthur said he would have preferred to at least have had the choice to sleep somewhere different, but there was only one room and only one bed in it.

Routine had settled in quite nicely. Routine was always something that made both of them happy; Arthur felt that it was handy to know what needed to be done and when he had time to do it, but Alfred liked having familiarity and knowledge of _exactly_ how things should go and _exactly_ when they should.

So, nineteen days into their shared lives, Alfred found it unusual that Arthur was late home from work.

Arthur had finished his volunteer work down at the library and was now working for the local newspaper and, despite being paid pittance, enjoyed it immensely. But not so much that he would be late home.

Yes, here was home now for Arthur wasn't it? That's what Alfred thought at least. Arthur would be staying here forever, with him. He had no reason to leave unless they got a bigger apartment, maybe a house or something. Arthur wouldn't leave because they were together and would be forever, right?

But Alfred couldn't convince himself, so he called Arthur's phone. It went to voicemail.

He tried again. Voicemail.

And again. Still getting the same '_You have reached the voicemail service of Arthur Kirkland_' but a stupid electronic voice and a command to leave a message after the beep was not going to get him Arthur's whereabouts.

So he rang again, and again, and again until it picked up on the twenty fourth dial.

"You sure are persistent, huh?"

Alfred didn't know the voice, but he could recognize Arthur complaining in the background, and the car radio buzzing. A vibrating started in the back of his throat, but it was repressed before it could form into a territorial growl.

"Who the hell are you! Where's Arthur!" Alfred demanded, clutching the phone desperately and pressing it as close as he could get it, as if that could make Arthur any closer.

There was a dry chuckle on the other end and a reply came soaring in, like a missile into the dark corners of Alfred's mind. "I'm Francis Bonnefoy, a work colleague. Arthur is driving, so he can't talk. I can take a message though?"

Alfred didn't like his tone. His answer was snide and smart, exactly what a pro at these kinds of conversations would do and Arthur was being far too quiet in the background. "Put me on speaker then," he replied, lowly. His tone must have made it through the handset as well, as he heard a rustling and then the whir of the car engine.

At least they weren't lying about the car. Alfred blanched. "Arthur?"

"Alfred, you know talking distracts me when I'm driving," he heard his boyfriend reply, but he let out no sigh of relief.

"Good thing you're not driving then," Alfred spat, narrowing his eyes but knowing Arthur couldn't see, but maybe could sense that, "Hurry up, you're five minutes late."

He hung up to Arthur's confused protests before sitting down on the sofa and turning on the television.

Two minutes late, the key turned in the door and Arthur stormed in, his face tinted red and his hands shoved in his pockets. Alfred had noted in his mind that Arthur only did that when confused, frustrated and angry at the same time, but he wondered why Arthur was mimicking his emotions.

"You rang me twenty four times, Alfred," Arthur said accusingly, his tone a pitch louder than usual. It made the hairs on the back of Alfred's neck stand up. "Twenty four times because I was five minutes behind schedule. What is your problem!"

Alfred remained calm looking but his forehead twitched slightly as he replied with a simple, "I didn't know you were off early today. Or is he just that quick? Bet that was fun."

Arthur blinked in confusion before realisation set in and a look of horror seeped into his features. "I dropped Francis home, that's all. He needed a lift because his car is getting serviced, and I obliged, alright? It's not a crime and I'm not bloody cheating on you, Alfred!"

"You're on first name basis with him?" Alfred asked coolly.

"Yes? So? He's not my boss; I don't have to title him, for God's sake!" Arthur yelled, his fist having come out of his pockets and were clenching almost painfully looking.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alfred knew this was a reasonable explanation and the truth; Arthur's eyes were pleading and completely innocent. But in the front of Alfred's mind, war was raging as he stepped up from the sofa and grabbed Arthur's wrist, pulling it upward and slamming it against the far wall.

Arthur stared up at him, for once fully aware of the height difference as he received an eerie smile and a simple, "Don't talk to that man again, right?" before his wrist was dropped and Alfred strolled out of the room, like he hadn't just pinned his boyfriend up against the wall and threatened him like that.

Arthur just stared at the far wall, rubbing his wrist.

**Phase Three - Obsession**

Arthur had convinced himself that he had been avoiding Francis because he rather disliked the man in the first place, not because of anything Alfred might have said or anything Alfred could possibly do to hurt him if he didn't listen.

Now and again, Alfred would catch him in the doorway when he was coming in in the evenings and drag him to the sofa so he could watch television with him. Arthur usually would have found it quite romantic to be wrapped up in his boyfriend's arms, but the grip was always slightly too tight, too needy.

Whenever Arthur tried to wrench away from it, or even tell him to loosen his grip, though, Alfred would look across at him like a kicked puppy and ask the same question.

"Do you love me?"

And Arthur always just slowly nodded and put up with being squeezed like a stuffed animal, even if it were only because of the guilt trip always laid on him.

Kiku Honda was Arthur's friend at work, but when Arthur let it slip one day that Alfred monitored his phone bills every month, the little Japanese man became worried.

And so, when they were talking at lunch one day, Kiku asked, polite as ever, if Arthur would mind him using his laptop for a moment. Arthur obliged and watched as Kiku tapped away at files and applications before doing it all again.

"As I thought," Kiku said, although his voice still sounded stunned like he didn't believe it at all.

Arthur watched him from across the table, cocking his head to one side and asking, "What are you talking about?"

"Spyware," the Japanese man said in disbelief, "There's a key stroke generator on your computer that monitors everything you type."

Arthur stared before managing to reply. "How did it get there?"

"Someone must have taken your computer and put the software on it," Kiku said, tapping at a few more things, "They must have known a lot about computers to do it too. Who would have done this?"

Arthur sat in silence before slowly reaching across and closing down the lid of his laptop and dragging it back towards himself. "No one. No one at all."

**Phase Four - Destruction**

It was all Arthur's fault really.

Alfred could feel his hands burning under the boiling water that was gushing out of the bathroom tap. The burning was good; it was washing away both the blood and the sin.

He had already took all his sullied clothes and bleached them; heavily. They needed that. Apparently, blood was difficult to get out of clothes.

It was funny, Alfred thought as he dried his raw red hands in the bath towel as he made his way to where Arthur was crumpled down in the living room; Arthur still looked as brilliant as he did so many months ago in the library down the town.

Alfred didn't know dead people could look so good.

Arthur didn't deserve to die, he pondered, mopping up the pool of red with the same bath towel from earlier. But really, Alfred had no choice.

Arthur had come in, blowing a gasket about the machine Alfred had attached to his laptop. He wouldn't listen when Alfred told him that it was for his own good. Alfred had only wanted him to listen to him.

But it ended badly.

After disposing the towel in the kitchen sink, Alfred picked up the carving knife that was lying on the kitchen table. He was going to make Arthur dinner for being good but that wouldn't be happening now.

He wandered back into the room and dropped on his knees beside Arthur's cleaned up body. He really looked like a little broken doll, and Alfred felt bad for a moment for breaking its clockwork.

Just a moment.

He opened the first five buttons of Arthur's shirt, leaving some of his chest exposed. The knife rested easy in his hand as he slowly brought it up to pierce the Arthur's lifeless skin. And, from there, he carved a perfect heart shape, right over where Arthur's no longer beat.

He buttoned up Arthur's shirt again and reached for the phone, limply attached to the wall. He dialled and it answered almost immediately.

_This is 911, what is your emergency?_

Alfred couldn't remember what he told the woman on the other end, but he knew he elicited some raised voices when he stopped speaking in favour of driving a knife through his chest.

He rested his head down on Arthur's motionless lap, not even noticing how uncomfortable the position was because of the sudden throbbing in his skull and general light headedness.

"Don't worry, Arthur," he mumbled, barely able to speak due to the excruciating pain from the wound in his chest, "You can love me for eternity now."

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**| E . N . D |**


End file.
